Triumvirate
by Sweet Avidya Jones
Summary: There isn't enough Zutaraang fic so I wrote some.
1. Healer Conference Year 2

The halls of the Fire Nation Palace were quiet and still at this hour.

It was late, hours to go before dawn, and the day had been busy. It was always extraordinarily busy in the Capitol when Aang and Katara came for a visit. The early days after the war were chaotic for the staff. It was over one hundred years since the Avatar had been received with pageantry and celebration, and the adjustment was not without hiccups. Reinvention of procedures and protocols was required; not the least of which was adjusting formal dinners to accommodate a vegetarian.

Six years on, things had settled into a comfortable familiarity. The staff could still be seen jogging from place to place the morning of the Avatar's arrival but now it was with purpose instead of frantic energy.

Most of the nervous tension had been transferred more recently to Zuko, though he concealed it well enough. Years of living in Azula's shadow, his banishment, they'd all helped him learn patience. They were lessons well worn into him. He would pace, sometimes, when his nerves got the better of him, but only when he was alone.

His private apartments were a set of rooms within rooms, the inner sanctum shielded from prying eyes and sensitive ears. He spent solitary hours there, when he could. There was talk that he kept concubines but it was more supposition than rumor, the sort of thing spoken about without any surprise. The Fire Lord was always granted these dalliances. Ozai kept women, there was nothing unusual in it. It rankled Zuko to be compared to his father in any way but for this, he let it pass. It was easier. Easier to explain certain things away when perfectly normal assumptions could account for them.

He shifted in the bed, not knowing what woke him and feeling out of sorts because of it. Katara was curled into Aang's side and Zuko moved closer to him on the other, trying not to disturb either of them.

It was almost funny. His attendants would think no less of him if they found him in bed with a woman who was essentially required to be there, who was bound to him through servitude. But it would be a scandal if he was found here now, like this. He could imagine it and it set him on edge: three heroes of the Hundred Year War caught in a liaison in the Palace. Or more likely, the Fire Lord, The Avatar and his _wife_ caught having an affair, because gossip was always as reductionist and salacious as possible. After more than a year, Zuko always came back to this, agonizing over hypotheticals.

Aang sighed in his sleep and turned his face towards Zuko and since no one was looking, he permitted himself a moment to admire him. People had a lot of things to say about the man Aang had become - that he was even-tempered and insightful and a little mysterious - but how handsome he'd grown was the most glaring change, and went almost entirely unspoken. Katara was beautiful, too, though she'd always been pretty. Lean maturity shaped both of their features. They were a striking couple, especially at formal events, and often drew stares that neither of them seemed to notice.

The irony was uncomfortable, and a little sad at times: the last airbender in the Fire Lord's bedchamber. The war had visited plenty of cruelty on all of them, but especially Aang. On the occasions when Zuko found himself particularly annoyed about having to keep their arrangement a secret, he almost _wanted_ them to be found out. He _wanted_ it brought out into the open, to see who would dare him to justify it, because he knew he could. After how much they'd all given, and continued to give, some small corner of their lives deserved to remain untouched by outside judgment. All of them had earned it. And who else could any of them turn to? Who else would truly understand the pressures, the stress, the anxiety? He was lost after Mai left, and once the pain ebbed away he was left with the sinking realization that he would have to start from the beginning to forge that connection with someone new. He would have to tell them about his past, his father, his banishment, the war. He would have to explain the things he'd done and had done to him. Revisiting those experiences was not something he was especially eager to do. So he closed himself off to everyone but his closest friends. When Aang and Katara moved into that void it was a relief, despite the initial awkwardness. They were a comfort to him. Zuko offered what comfort he could in return, to both of them, however fleeting.

Then his righteous anger would cool, tempered by harsh reality. It couldn't last. His advisers told him weekly that a bachelor Fire Lord was not good for public morale. He needed a Lady, and an heir to the throne. They'd offered to find someone, multiple times. There were plenty of young women among Fire Nation nobility who were suitable, who had been groomed from childhood for such things. They could find him someone beautiful and poised and regal, someone he might learn to love in time. A singular male ruler reminded the people of the Fire Nation too much of Ozai, they said, so they could not help but draw comparisons. They looked at him and remembered his father's reign, which despite the bloodiness had been a very prosperous time for his people. Now he was asking them to sacrifice, to humble themselves, and they were not taking it well. This entanglement with his friends was selfish. He was loitering, at the expense of his Nation and it's future.

Zuko didn't realize he was clenching his jaw until it started to ache. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling as he relaxed it. Taking a slow, deep breath, he closed his eyes. Beside him, Aang stirred. Zuko glanced over at him.

"You okay?" Aang mumbled without opening his eyes.

"Yeah," he replied quietly, "Sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Aang asked, still sounding groggy and not at all capable of holding a conversation. Zuko gave a dubious shake of his head but a grudging smile spread across his face all the same.

"It's fine," he murmured, "Go back to sleep."

Aang twined his fingers in Katara's and rolled onto his side to face Zuko, keeping her arm draped across his waist, her chest to his back. She let out a sleepy groan of protest and moved closer to him, tightening her embrace, sliding one of her legs between his under the sheets. He rubbed his bleary eyes and leaned on his forearm to look down at Zuko, who was still staring at the ceiling.

"Have your advisers been on your case again?" Aang asked, his voice low and tired but sympathetic. Zuko ran his tongue across his teeth and shrugged.

"They're always on my case," he remarked, "It's nothing new."

Aang yawned and lay down again, pressing a kiss to Zuko's shoulder. "Doesn't mean it can't still bother you," he put in, his lips brushing his skin.

Zuko acknowledged this with a grunt. He propped himself up on his elbows to look at the two figures beside him. The lantern on the bedside table threw flickering shadows across them. Aang tilted his head to peer up at him. He'd missed them in the last few months. He missed Aang's graceful dignity, Katara's quiet self-assurance. He knew they were putting things off, too. They wanted to have children - they _needed_ to have children - but they were waiting. They blamed other factors: their busy travel schedules, politics. These things might have played a role but Zuko knew the delay was at least partially for his benefit. Their generosity was touching, even if it wasn't altruistic. And it was revealing, a demonstration that they worried about him. They cared about him and wanted him to be happy. There weren't many people he felt he could say that about.

He found himself wanting them again and it felt imposing. He knew they were both tired after their trip and they all needed to be presentable for the start of the conference the next morning. His gaze skimmed along Aang's arm to his bare hip before he looked away, even inclined his chin in the other direction. Aang released Katara's hand and she rolled onto her stomach as he sat up slightly. Zuko was unable to feign disinterest any longer when he bent to murmur in his ear.

"It's all right," he assured him.

Zuko shook his head, "I know you're tired," he apologized.

Aang drew back and considered this a moment, "I don't think I'm _ever_ too tired for this," he mused.

"He's really not," Katara mumbled into the pillow and Aang grinned sheepishly, holding back an embarrassed laugh. Zuko smirked and turned onto his side to face the two of them. He leaned in but it was hesitant, he was always hesitant. Aang's hand was already sliding beneath the sheets, fanning his desire and searing away his doubt.

"We missed you, too," Aang whispered as his fingers found him, aching flesh enclosed in his firm but gentle grasp. Their lips finally met and Zuko cupped his face, pulling him closer. He let out a shivery sigh as his hand began to move, their foreheads pressed together. Zuko ran his own hand down, across Aang's chest, along the ridges of his abdomen, and then his fingers collided with Katara's. He was about to pull away when she caught his wrist. She pulled him back, letting him take over, the warmth and strength of his adept touch replacing hers. Aang let out a low moan as she turned her hands to other endeavors.

Zuko dipped his head to press his lips to Aang's throat, sucking gently at his skin, careful not to leave any marks.

"Three months is too long," he murmured, his nose brushing Aang's jaw. He looked up to meet Katara's gaze. She licked her lips and smiled, and there was mischief in her eyes.

"You could just schedule a conference every month," she offered. Ensnared between them and unable to summon up a coherent response, Aang only groaned in agreement.


	2. Prelude (Healer Conference Year 1)

When Zuko first joined their group, Aang expected him to be like Toph, resistant to outward displays of affection. He _had_ reacted with embarrassment at first, but it was a surprise how quickly he warmed to it. Once Aang gave it more thought, it was almost heartbreaking, the way he leaned into every hug, or bumped his shoulders against theirs sitting around the fire. He flashed shy smiles, as if he were still working out whether all of this was allowed. His affection was reserved. The kind of affection you would expect to receive from a prince.

He was still like that, a little. Five years had not been enough time to wear away his hesitation completely. There was strength in the warmth he offered now, though it was often silent.

Zuko's embrace was tighter than usual when he greeted them. It was months since Aang and Katara had seen him last. One of the more unfortunate consequence of being Fire Lord was the fact that he was much more firmly bound to the capitol now, kept there dealing with matters of state. When they saw him these days it was usually because they were in the Fire Nation and staying at the Palace.

This visit was no exception. They'd come for a conference being hosted in the capitol. A small group of progressive herbalists approached Zuko months prior with the idea for what they hoped would become an annual event. Three days of medical professionals talking about chi paths, sharing plant drying techniques and swapping ointment recipes seemed dull on its face, but Zuko was treating it as an opportunity for cultural outreach. He welcomed any chance to bring people together in the Fire Nation. The three of them having nearly a week to catch up was a lucky side benefit.

They arrived on Appa at dusk, landing at the Palace stables. This was their usual tactic when they were tired and wanted to avoid crowds. The stables were at the rear of the compound and they could stroll through the gardens on the perimeter to reach the guest wing, which was exactly what they ended up doing. Zuko embraced them both and excused the attendants before escorting them to their room. Aang's boots scuffed the stone tile path as they walked together, unable to keep his weariness from showing. The gardens were illuminated by the last muted colors of the sunset and torchlight.

"You're early," Zuko remarked as they made their way past the turtleduck pond, "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

"I hope you don't mind," Aang said, unnecessarily. "We've been traveling so much lately, we needed the downtime."

"An _Air Nomad_ needed a break from traveling?" Zuko drawled, looking past Aang to turn an unconvinced eye toward Katara. She smiled and Aang returned it with sympathy.

" _I_ needed the downtime," she admitted. "And it seemed like a good idea to beat the crowd. It'll give us a few days to put our feet up."

"Well, you're always welcome here," Zuko replied.

They entered the guest wing and talked briefly about their trip (which was uneventful) and Ba Sing Se (Uncle sent his regards). Zuko waited in the hallway once they arrived at their room, allowing them to go in before he followed. He paused on the threshold, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest. Aang lit the lamps with a lazy flick of his wrist before seating himself on the bench situated beside the door. He began pulling off his boots.

"Do you want to come in?" Katara offered. Zuko shook his head.

"It's late and I'm sure you two are tired. Get some sleep. I'll see you both in the morning."

Katara set her bag down with a grateful smile and pulled him into another hug. He returned it, eyes closed.

"I'm sorry it's been so long," she murmured to him before stepping back.

He shrugged, "It's all right. I know how it is."

"Still, though," Aang said, straightening to look up at them, "We meant to visit sooner. We would have if it weren't for that mess in Senlin Village." He gestured between them with a smirk, "I should have just sent you two. You would have figured out what was going on faster than I did. You're the resident experts on impersonating spirits, after all."

Katara crossed her arms, pretending offense, though the coy curl of her lips spoiled the effect somewhat. She touched her fingertips to her chest.

"I prefer to think I _represented_ the Painted Lady, if you don't mind."

He chuckled. "Katara, she was _there_."

" _The point is_ ," she went on, turning her attention back to Zuko with an amused roll of her eyes, "We missed you. And I hate to think of you spending all of your time cooped up in this place with only attendants and diplomats as company." She returned his sad smile and added, "Try to find some time to come to Ba Sing Se. Uncle misses you, too."

He nodded, "I will. And thank you. For thinking of me."

Katara gave a single nod, drawing in a deep breath.

"Okay," she sighed out, "I need to go soak in the tub until I start to doze off." She turned and went in the direction of the bathroom with a wave, "Good night, Zuko."

They heard the door to the bathroom slide open. Aang rocked forward on the balls of his feet to stand.

"I'm going to go and uh…make sure she doesn't drown," he said, pointing after her.

Zuko charged past the ridiculousness of this statement and the opportunity for any elaboration, "Breakfast in the morning? If you let the attendants know when you're up we can take it on the balcony in my room."

"Sure." Aang hesitated. He was on the verge of saying something else but instead settled for meeting him in the doorway for another embrace. Just as Zuko was about to pull away, Aang squeezed him harder for a second.

"Thanks again," he murmured before he released him.

Zuko nodded and stepped out into the hall. Aang waited, watching him for a moment as he turned and walked away, a solitary figure dwarfed by the open, empty space of the hallway. He closed the door.

The squeak of knobs preceded the splash of water running in the bathroom and it almost startled him. The sound carried the echo of Katara's presence. He felt suddenly aware of being alone in the room, and it confused him.

Aang's fingers brushed his scalp, the motions so automatic he barely registered the sensation. He let his hand rest on the back of his neck, eyes downcast and unfocused.

He breathed out a melancholy sigh.

XxXxX

Breakfast the next morning was a subdued affair. Aang and Katara seemed tired and Zuko wondered if all of their recent traveling was wearing them down more than they let on. The three of them looked out over the Capitol. They sipped tea and discussed the conference. Katara was looking forward to the opportunity to spend a few days with her peers, and was planning on spending the day doing some research in the palace library to brush up on her herbalism. Aang was indulging in their exceptionally open schedule and had nothing planned apart from an afternoon nap.

They didn't see each other again until mid-morning, when Zuko came looking for Katara. He had installed a shallow pool in the gym for them years ago and they were taking advantage of it, doing some waterbending practice before lunch.

When he entered the gym, Katara's back was to the door. Both of them were soaked and Aang's laughter echoed toward the front of the room. Standing in front of her, he ran his hand across his scalp to flick away some of the water. He leaned in to whisper something and Katara shoved at his chest with a feigned gasp of shock. Aang shrugged and spoke again, his smile widening into a grin as he moved closer to her. Zuko caught the end of the conversation when he reached the edge of the pool.

"You always act like _I'm_ the crude one when _you're_ the one who starts it," he was saying. "Which one of us was raised by monks here?"

"Yes, you're the very picture of virtuous chastity," she replied, her voice dry, bending the water off of them both. He slid his arms around her waist.

"Hey, _you're_ my waterbending Master," Aang defended, completely dismissing her sarcasm and dragging his fingertips down her spine to the small of her back. "Shouldn't you should be setting an example?" he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her.

Unable to hold back a sputter of incredulous laughter, she spun around in his arms before he could manage it. Zuko's presence surprised her.

"Zuko! Hi." She tucked a few stray hairs back, behind her ear. "I didn't know you were standing there." Aang bent to kiss her shoulder and she gave an embarrassed, apologetic smile.

Zuko rubbed his chin, "I don't know if you two being married makes the impropriety of your student-teacher relationship better or worse," he mused.

They were used to this sort of gentle ribbing - they'd been hearing it for years - and Aang smiled up at him, arms still wrapped around Katara's middle. She traced the lines of his tattoos with her fingertips without looking, something she'd obviously done countless times.

"Should I look in on your next session with Toph?" Zuko asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Did you notice he expressed no concern about your next session with _him_?" Katara pointed out, and Aang chuckled.

"You two are completely shameless," Zuko admonished, scowling in an effort to offset the heat in his face. He crouched at the edge of the pool, "Katara, the conference organizers are looking for you. They want to know if you'd mind familiarizing them with the healing practice dummies. They've been sitting in crates since we got them because they're afraid to touch them."

"I'd be delighted to," she agreed. He extended a hand, standing to help her out of the water. She stooped to pick up her tunic from where she'd left it folded on the floor. Aang leaned against the tiles. He watched Katara slip her clothing on and make her way toward the door, then returned his attention to Zuko.

"Firebending practice?" he offered.

He arched an eyebrow, hands on his hips, squinting down. "I don't think so," he replied.

"Oh, come on, why not?" Aang protested with a grin. Zuko ignored him, following Katara out of the gym.

XxXxX

People were staring.

The citizens of the Fire Nation could not remember what it was to have a Firelord who wanted to walk the streets beside them. For so long, their leader had been a figure seen from a distance, or concealed in a palanquin, and always flanked by guards. Zuko was making a continued effort to change this - much to the consternation of his advisers and security team. They protested when he left the palace unguarded, which was often, and each objection seemed more weak and absurd than the last. When he went with Sokka to visit the blacksmith they favored, or with Toph to the noodle vendor who made the scorchingly hot sauce they both liked. Or today, when he elected to take a morning trip to the market with Katara and Aang.

He felt a surge of irritation when his senior adviser threw one last, dubious glance toward his friends before they left. It was easy to forget how unassuming they appeared, especially to people who never had occasion to see Katara fight, and who had never seen Aang in the Avatar State. The odds that someone would make an attempt on his life in the heart of the capitol seemed remote. Logically, he knew he couldn't take his safety for granted. The political climate was still turbulent and there were plenty of people who weren't exactly fond of him - or of Aang, for that matter. That was sometimes hard to keep in perspective, especially on days like this.

The market was bustling, even though it was early in the day. Elderly women inspected fruit with squinting eyes. Parents held the hands of their small children. The stalls serving breakfast were busy and crowded with people hunched over bowls of juk and plates of dumplings and steaming cups of tea.

The three of them walked down the street together. They were not going anywhere in particular, though Katara was on the lookout for a yellow scarf to match Aang's formal robes. They stopped at a stall where a vendor was selling elaborate kites. People were accustomed enough to Zuko's presence that most didn't offer a full bow unless he was addressing them directly, or in close proximity. He did his best to acknowledge everyone who demonstrated their respect. Even after all this time it still felt like a small miracle that they were offering it at all.

Realization that he had not yet paid his monthly visit to Ozai twisted heavy in his gut. His throat stung with anxiety and he tried to ignore it. He wondered if Aang would go with him, if he asked. He had not seen Ozai since the tribunal.

It was more than four years ago now, though it felt more recent. The trial went on for nearly two weeks. It might not have been such a difficult time if the whole thing hadn't been such an unavoidable circus. Coordinating it was a nightmare, from both a logistical and a security standpoint. Compounding this was the fact that - in the interest of transparency - the proceedings were open to the public. It culminated in Aang's testimony and that day in particular was hard for all of them. Zuko spent the entire day nursing a sharp headache and didn't eat. Aang, by contrast, was remarkably calm, though he looked tired. His voice had recently broken and he spoke carefully, trying his best to keep it from cracking.

He talked about his battle with Ozai in a matter of fact way, recounting the events without hesitation, though there was a faraway look in his eyes at times. Zuko was disgusted by the details, which up until that point he had never heard. He was not surprised about the appalling things his father said that day, but when Aang repeated the words, it sickened Zuko to hear such hateful things coming out of his mouth. He said them in a way that indicated familiarity, that exposed the grooves they had worn into his memory. No one would have blamed him for being angry. Everyone in the courtroom was looking for anger. Instead, he sat on the stand, upright and composed and sad. More than anything, he thought Aang looked sad. Katara wept silently, the sort of hot, angry tears Zuko knew well, Sokka's arm around her.

Words failed Aang when it came time to explain how he'd taken the Phoenix King's bending, though everyone listened with rapt attention. Ozai was obviously angry about having his shame aired so publicly, but he showed no remorse while being faced with the boy whose death he would have considered a victory.

Outside the stall of kites, a small crowd had gathered. Katara was crouched at eye level with a little girl who was shyly avoiding her eyes as she spoke. Aang was talking to a young woman who was far too dressed up for a morning trip to the market. Word traveled fast in the capitol.

He wondered when they had become the poised, gracious adults standing before him today. When had Aang gone from the diminutive boy in the courtroom to the young man who was making a girl blush just by smiling at her? Katara had once responded to him with glares and sharp anger. Now when the little girl she was talking to looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes, Katara glanced in his direction and smiled.

He had paused in the street a few feet away when they stopped, and he moved closer to them. The people respectfully dispersed, giving their lord a wide berth. Aang frowned but it was fleeting, and he gave a confused smile at the look on Zuko's face.

"What's up?" he asked. The little girl had Katara captured in an embrace, her arms around her neck. Her older sister was already walking away and called to her. She released Katara and ran off without a backwards glance.

"Nothing," Zuko said with a shake of his head, then changed his mind and added, "I'm glad you two are here."

Aang brightened, "Thanks, Sifu Hotman. I'm glad we're here, too." Katara stood, brushing at her robes. "You made a friend," he observed.

"She's actually a big fan of Lord Zuko," she corrected, and Aang's smile widened. Gently, Katara explained, "She was just telling me she learned in school last week about his Agni Kai with his sister."

Zuko's smile faltered and he nodded, "We've been updating the public school curriculum over the last couple of years." He cleared his throat and his gaze dropped away from theirs, "Since my family is so closely intertwined in the narrative of the war, our succession is included."

"She said something very interesting," Katara said, and he met her eyes again. She was smiling, though it was bittersweet. "Apparently her teacher told her a very brave waterbender saved his life. When she heard I was at the market this morning she wanted to come and tell me thank you."

Aang took Katara's hand and bumped her arm with his. He reached out and squeezed Zuko's shoulder and they stood in silence. So many of these moments had passed between the three of them in the last few years. They didn't even need to address it out loud any more to know they were all feeling the same thing.

It was so easy to doubt whether they were on the right path, there were so few signposts. It was hard to tell whether their efforts were making a difference. For a time, immediately after the end of the war, it seemed things were actually getting worse. The whole group shared a collective, breath-holding tension, loaded with doubt. They had to let it out slowly, over time, waiting for indications that things were getting better. And they'd come, here and there at first. Now it seemed to happen every time they went anywhere together. There was always some moment. Sometimes it was a thing that was outwardly big, like selecting the future site for the unified city. Most of the time it was something small, like this: a little girl in the Fire Nation thanking a waterbender for her bravery during the war. Zuko nodded slowly.

"That was really sweet of her," he said.

XxXxX

It was Katara who answered when he knocked at their door that evening. His attendants told him they'd taken dinner in their room. Most of his day was occupied with conference preparations and he wasn't able to join them, though they'd extended an invitation.

It was late enough that he knew he could expect to spend the rest of the evening undisturbed, barring some crisis. It also meant this was the best time to catch up when they visited, and it was not uncommon for them to stay up late on these occasions, probably later than they should.

He was a little thrown by her attire. She wore a robe made of maroon silk, probably kept amongst the other articles of clothing they stored in their closet for visits to the Palace. It fell mid thigh and seemed like the sort of thing she would reserve for the privacy of their room. She smiled as she opened the door fully, stepping aside to admit him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't join you two for dinner," he said as she closed the door behind him. She waved off this apology.

"It's fine. We know you're busy."

He followed her further inside, into the sitting room, where Aang was hunched at the table over what appeared to be a letter. Zuko recognized his delicate calligraphy and was not surprised when he didn't even look up, too engrossed in his work.

"Sorry, you two," he muttered, "I'll be done with this in a minute."

Aang took his correspondence seriously - beside the scroll he was working on, there was a sheet of scrap paper crowded with sentences. The disconnected paragraphs were crisscrossed with notes and revisions. Zuko recalled a recent meeting with one of his magistrates. They were discussing the upcoming trial of a band of highwaymen from the old colonies who had been arrested on the very edge of Fire Nation territory. There was a great deal of bluster from the Kuei about their extradition. Aang wrote to Zuko about it and he passed the letter along to the magistrate.

"Have you read the letter from Avatar Aang?" he asked. The man rolled his eyes.

"Not yet," he grumbled, "I'm not in the mood for poetry."

Despite his brusqueness, Zuko had to admit there was some truth to what he was saying. Aang's writing had a lyrical quality he had come to appreciate. There was something very honest about it, and it seemed to make no difference if he was writing about personal affairs or matters of state, the form remained the same.

Aang was sitting on the floor, frowning at the half finished sentence in front of him. His chest was bare, robes neatly folded on the end of the couch. Zuko wondered if he was disturbing them, since it didn't seem they'd been expecting him to visit. Almost the same moment this thought crossed his mind, it was contradicted by the three cups he spotted on the table next to the teapot. Only one of them was full. There was a glass of wine standing beside the overturned, unused teacups in bold defiance. He knew who each belonged to without asking.

Zuko had seen both of them more exposed before - just that morning, in fact - when they were sparring. Something about this felt more intimate and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Katara wasn't wearing her betrothal necklace and he wondered if she had taken a bath just before his arrival. He seated himself on the floor opposite Aang, the table between them. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he stretched his neck side to side with his eyes closed.

"Is your neck bothering you?" Katara asked. He gave a grunt of affirmation and she frowned, "I could work on it for you if you want."

He straightened, "Oh, no that's - "

"Come on," she cajoled, "We might as well take care of it now. You'll just be back here tomorrow with a tension headache if we don't, and you'll be grouchy on top of it."

Aang glanced up at her with a smile before returning his attention to his letter.

"She makes a very compelling argument," he pointed out. Zuko gave a grudging smile.

"All right," he agreed.

Katara bent to pick up one of the large pillows beside Aang. She dropped it onto the floor next to the table and gestured to it.

"Sit there and I'll go grab my bowl."

Zuko moved to comply as she went to their bedroom. He sat with his legs folded, back to the fat pillow he knew she'd thrown down for herself. They had shared enough of these sessions that he began pulling his hair up without being asked.

Katara returned, a canvas satchel slung over her shoulder and carrying a large brass bowl. She liked these bowls so much for healing work he'd given her one as a housewarming gift when they moved into their apartment in Ba Sing Se. Aang received a set of much smaller ones - seven of them, to use as offering bowls - for his shrine.

She set the bowl down on the floor and knelt on the pillow behind him, taking her bag from her shoulder. With a furrowed brow, she scrutinized his posture, looking for whatever it was healers looked for in these situations.

"Have you been doing hand to hand training this week?" she asked, cocking her head slightly.

"Day before yesterday," he confirmed, glancing over his shoulder.

"Look at me over your other shoulder," she instructed. He did and she nodded, "Okay."

He faced forward again. Katara drew water from the bowl, holding it over his left shoulder. He closed his eyes as her hands hovered slowly up, onto the side of his neck. She moved one of them around to the other side, the cool water now suspended over his pulse, as well. The movements of her fingers were slight as she felt around, examining the area with a gentle touch.

"What's a better way to say 'disappointed'?" Aang asked, breaking the silence. He made a note on his scrap paper.

"What's wrong with 'disappointed'?" Zuko returned, opening his eyes to look over at him.

"It's a little too harsh." Aang ran the tip of the brush handle back and forth along his lower lip.

"Ah ha." There was subdued triumph in Katara's voice, "I think I found the worst of the trouble spots. It's mostly your shoulder." She pulled away and returned the water to the bowl, then began picking through her bag.

"I think I left the rub I want in the bathroom." She stood and touched his shoulder. Zuko twisted around to look at her and she indicated the pillow she'd just been sitting on.

"Take your shirt off and lay on your stomach. I'll be right back." She left the room. He turned back to Aang.

"Who are you writing to?" he asked as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Aang sighed, set his brush down and rubbed his eyes. He covered his face with his hands.

"Kuei," he responded, his voice muffled behind his palms. Zuko rolled his eyes.

"Usually when I'm writing to Kuei I'm looking for less harsh ways to say 'insufferable' and 'annoyed' but you're much more charitable than me."

With a low groan, Aang dragged his hands down his face and scowled at his letter again, a faint crease between his brows.

"Troubled?" Zuko suggested, folding his shirt and laying it aside. Aang tilted his head, eyes darting toward him, then away. He cleared his throat and nodded, picked up his brush again.

"Thanks," he said as Zuko stretched out on his stomach, arms folded beneath his head.

Katara returned with the tin she'd been looking for and knelt beside him, rubbing her hands together to warm them. She scooped up some of the ointment and went to work on his shoulder. Her fingertips slid across his skin before she found the knot she'd identified and attacked it with steady, gentle pressure. The pain was deeper than he expected and his breath caught before he let it out in a sigh.

"Sorry," she murmured. Her tone grew firmer, along with the pressure from her fingers, "If you started working with that acupuncturist I recommended you wouldn't _have_ this problem."

Without opening his eyes be asked, "Is scolding your patients a skill you'll be working on this week during the conference?"

He could tell she was smiling when she answered.

"We should call it Cultural Unity Through Scolding." Her cheeriness faltered but still attempting lightheartedness, she said, "It's a shame more of the healers from the North aren't coming. They're very gifted at passive aggressiveness."

Zuko opened his eyes, peering up at her from his periphery.

"I'm sorry more of them couldn't come," he said.

 _Couldn't_ wasn't strictly accurate, and they all knew it. The truth of the matter was that they _wouldn't_. Invitations to the conference were extended all over the world: throughout the Fire Nation to herbalists, to the Earth Kingdom apothecaries, to the healers in the Water Tribe. The response from the Water Tribe had been disappointingly lukewarm, despite Katara's efforts to convince them to attend. She met his eyes and gave a weak smile.

"The gesture is still important. You're trying, Zuko." She laid a hand on his shoulder blade. "It's just going to take time," she murmured before pulling up her water again. He closed his eyes once more.

Katara worked in silence, drawing the energy knotted in his neck and shoulders down, smoothing its' flow. The only sound was the slosh of water and the occasional scratch of a pencil as Aang made notes. After about fifteen minutes she had used up most of her water and knelt beside him without doing anything. Her eyes traveled along his back, looking with a critical gaze for anything she might have missed. He was much too relaxed and comfortable and gave a regretful groan when he realized how drowsy he was.

"I should probably get up and go to bed," he muttered into his arms, "Before I fall asleep on your floor."

"I sort of miss our camping days," Aang admitted. He rinsed out his brush and bent it dry, his letter finally finished. "It was easier to stay up all night talking when we were all around a fire together. Next time we all travel for something we should camp."

Zuko gave a grunt of assent.

"Sure, why not," Katara teased, "I haven't watched Toph pick her toes by firelight for a while."

Aang rolled his eyes as he turned to face them, leaning back on his hand. "You joke but I think it's a great idea. We don't have to wait for everyone else, either. Sokka and Suki are busy working with your dad and the United Forces and Toph is training her metalbenders. Who knows when they'll have the free time."

"Don't you have the Air Acolytes to think about?" Zuko drawled, his face still half buried in the pillow.

"The Air Acolytes do a _lot_ of reading," Aang said lightly. "A lot of reading and a lot of solitary introspection." They all knew the dismissiveness in his tone wasn't genuine, but there was truth in his statement. "The three of us could go somewhere," he suggested. "Zuko, you should come with us next time we visit the swamp benders. Those trips are always fun."

"I'll pass, thanks," he mumbled. He took a deep breath and rolled onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows as he prepared to sit up. Katara cocked her head, looking down at him.

"Your scar looks really good, Zuko," she said. Realizing, she met his eyes, blushing. "Your chest, I mean," she explained. And then to further drive the point home, "Your lightning scar."

Zuko pulled his chin toward his chest to look down at it. He shrugged.

"I guess it's hard for me to tell since I see it every day," he said, "My herbalist starting making me something to put on it every night years ago. I guess it's making a difference."

"Can you spare some? I'd like to try it on Aang's back."

"Sure," he yawned, "Do you want me to ask for the recipe for you?"

Katara shook her head, "I'll ask her during the conference. She has to do what you say but she can say no to me if she wants."

"That's very diplomatic," Zuko replied. He sat up fully, retrieving his shirt from the floor and shifting to face them.

"I'm kind of resenting that planning for the conference is over," he confessed. "I don't have it as an excuse to avoid talking to my advisers."

"What do they want to talk to you about?" Katara asked.

He shifted his jaw side to side. He already regretted bringing it up.

"They've been hounding me to get married," he muttered.

"Have they?" she replied, leaning forward.

Zuko threw his hand up, his wide eyes mirroring hers. The surprise in her tone was validating and his voice rose, bolstered by irritation.

"You'd think I have bigger things to worry about. They come to see me and I think they're going to bring me a treaty to sign or tell me about the latest drama with the Earth King. Instead they offer to schedule meetings with matchmakers or bring up some high ranking diplomat they know whose daughter is coming of age."

"Have you thought about what you're going to do?" Katara swept her hair behind her shoulders and sat back, "I mean, I can't picture you in an arranged marriage but I'm sure it's kind of hard to _date_ when you're the Fire Lord."

Zuko deflated a bit with a sigh.

"You're telling me," he muttered. He shook his shirt out, frowning at a wrinkle in the back before pulling it on. "I suppose I should just get used to it. If I were married they'd be pestering me about having kids, instead. It never really ends."

"No wonder you're so stressed out," Aang said. Zuko frowned, waiting for him to go on. Aang gave half a shrug and gestured to him, "It's bad enough being isolated without your advisers turning it into a national crisis. You shouldn't feel like you're failing your people on top of being lonely."

This was a keen insight, one he knew could only have been borne out of familiarity. Zuko looked down and away, from both of them. Of course they noticed, they knew him better than anyone.

"Have you decided how long you'll be staying?" he asked.

Katara went along with this change of subject. "I think we'll probably leave the day after the conference ends," she replied. "I want to go North as soon as possible while it's still fresh. I can pass along my notes and some supplies to the healers there."

Zuko was about to comment on this, his focus returning to the moment, and he was embarrassed to realize his gaze had dropped to Katara's bare knees. He looked across at her again and returned her smile, though he was worried his appeared strained. Nervous without understanding why and feeling like he had been caught at something, he turned his attention to the buttons on his shirt.

"I probably can't have breakfast with you two tomorrow," he apologized, "I have some last minute stuff to attend to."

"Firebending practice before lunch?" Aang offered. Zuko shook his head, avoiding his eyes.

"I can't. I have to meet with my head of security. He's nervous about all of the people we're going to have in the guest wing this week." The lie felt transparent and poorly thought out to him. All of the weakest lies involved other people. He wasn't sure why he was even telling it. He managed a smile as he finished with his shirt.

"At the very least I'll see you both tomorrow at dinner," he reminded them, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the ballroom, where the welcoming reception was being hosted. Katara nodded.

"Go get some sleep," she urged.

They all rose to their feet. Zuko bid them goodnight and walked toward the door. He didn't look back before he closed it behind him.


	3. Prelude (cont'd)

Zuko remembered receptions from his childhood. He recalled them as stuffy affairs, entire evenings of sitting at the head table near his father and obsessing silently over his posture. The focus was on appearances, on maintaining a princely bearing. He always dreaded receptions. These days, he could never be sure whether his memories of those events were accurate, or if the weight of his father's expectations simply smothered all possibility of fun out of them. Probably it was a bit of both.

They certainly never included dancing, and having a ballroom in the palace at all felt like superfluous frivolity back then. Fire Nation musicians were accustomed to the regimented performance necessary at formal and ceremonial events. Observing the shift in tone among the artists in the capitol was by turns awkward and joyous, and this was especially true where music was concerned.

Zuko watched the cellist tuning her instrument, a smile on her face, plucking at the strings. She tapped the nearby flutist on the knee with her bow to get his attention. Dinner was over and people were milling about, chatting and drinking. One thing was certainly true of his memory of past receptions: there was never this much laughter. There were never swamp benders or midwives from the Earth Kingdom or wizened acupuncturists from the colonies. Most of them looked a little overwhelmed by their surroundings. And of course the Avatar had never been there with his wife, the two of them taking to the dance floor the moment the music started. The harpist was the only one actually playing at the moment but neither of them seemed to mind.

He watched them from the dais, where the head of palace security was confiding his suspicions that the swamp benders had smuggled in moonshine. Zuko was positive he was correct but not particularly interested in making a fuss over it. He was barely listening as Chang cataloged all of the potential consequences of unmonitored contraband. Aang and Katara moved across the floor together.

Katara managed to find a scarf to match her husband's formal robes, after all. She'd wound it twice around herself, draping it low on her hips. The bright yellow stood out against her dress, which looked new. Zuko suspected even Aang had not seen it until this evening, if the way his gaze hung on her was any indication. It had a high collar, edged with gold embroidery. Clearly produced in the Fire Nation, the dress left her arms bare and the layers of light fabric were well suited for warm evenings. Rather than the shades of red he was accustomed to seeing, the dress was blue, so dark it was almost black. Aang's formal robes were the same ones Zuko always saw him in, yellow with flashes of orange. The contrast between the two of them was dramatic and eye catching. He found himself wondering - as he often did when he had occasion to see them dressed up - how a man raised by monks and a woman who grew up in an ice hut always managed to look so elegant together. There seemed to be very little effort involved. Aang was smiling down at Katara, the way he always did when he looked at her. He said something and she threw her head back and laughed before leaning into his shoulder, hiding her face and the fact that she was blushing.

Chang was still talking.

"…and that's to say nothing of the question of protocol, sire, which is - "

"Chang, please," Zuko sighed, "I'm not concerned about it." He turned to face the man, who he had come to know well. He was promoted to the post shortly after the coronation. Graying at the temples, he had a crease etched permanently between his brows. Chang had once been a master at arms in the navy and very little escaped his attention. Ordinarily, Zuko admired this about him, but sometimes it could get a bit wearing.

"This is a question of differing customs. They're not being intentionally disrespectful. If they get out of hand, then we can address it." The man looked skeptical and Zuko directed a knowing gaze at him, "And don't go looking for any excuses, either. These people are our guests."

"As my Lord wishes," Chang replied, which was his way of registering disagreement. He bowed and walked away.

Zuko's gaze followed an attendant carrying a tray of plum wine. He made his way toward the waterbenders and they flagged him down.

Although the water tribe in general had rebuffed the invitation, Katara did manage to talk the healers now living in the South into attending. There were three of them, chatting with the swamp benders. He was relieved to see they looked as befuddled by their rustic cousins as he was, himself. Zuko drummed his fingers on the table, wondering if he should go over and talk to them. Thank them for coming. Alone at the head table now that Chang was gone, mingling seemed like the thing to do. He wished he could have contrived some excuse to invite Toph, who was always excellent company at these sorts of events. She knew how to put on the appropriate face, how to hide her crass jokes behind her wine glass. Among all of his friends, Toph had the best grasp on the subtle duplicity required to move through the social circles they occupied.

He played out an awkward exchange with the waterbenders in his mind and decided against approaching them.

The band was in full swing and Zuko looked out onto the dance floor, which was now fairly crowded. The thought that someone could ask him to dance occurred to him and he decided to step outside for some air.

The ballroom opened out onto a terrace that overlooked an ornamental garden. In the low light of the evening, he could barely see the fire lilies he knew edged the area in tidy beds. The moon was a sliver in the sky, the stars dim against the light of the capitol. The air was warm. There was a large willow beside the pond. Its' branches dipped into the water. Zuko saw movement under the canopy of leaves and moved further out onto the terrace. Squinting into the relative darkness, the light of the ballroom at his back, it took him a moment to realize what he was seeing.

Aang and Katara stood together under the heavy branches. The two of them had never been shy about public displays of affection. Seeing them kiss was not an unfamiliar sight. This was decidedly different and it was clear they had no idea they were being watched. Their shapes were muddied in the darkness. Katara's back was to the tree and he could make out one of Aang's hands tangled in her hair. Hers were on his shoulders, standing out against the brightness of his robes. Although he couldn't see them well, the intensity of the kiss was obvious from the way they were pressed together, the way they held each other. He understood this facet of their relationship as a remote, abstract concept. Having it revealed unexpectedly was jarring. It was a hurried moment stolen in fleeting privacy. When they broke apart, Aang touched her face and looked down into her eyes. Zuko didn't have to see his face clearly to know he was smiling.

The terrace was quiet and empty and Zuko realized his hand was balled into a fist on the railing. His chest felt tight. He went back inside.

xXxXxXx

The bedchamber was bright. Impossibly bright. The curtains around his bed were drawn and Zuko pushed them open. The bed seemed to take up all of the space in the world, or all of the space that mattered. Red silk and gold embroidery sprawled endlessly into the distance, toward the horizon.

Aang was propped up by pillows, his legs tangled in the sheets. Katara straddled his lap. Her robe was gathered up, exposing her thighs, fingers curled into his shoulders. One of his pale hands was tangled in her dark hair.

Zuko could see everything in the bright light of the room. Every minute shift of Katara's hips. The sweat on Aang's brow as he looked into her eyes, both of them breathing heavily. His other arm slid around her waist and the arrow snaking onto his hand was so blue it almost looked like it was glowing. Aang looked over Katara's shoulder at him and Zuko expected to see the familiar, unsettling pits of light in his face. Instead they were the soft, gray eyes he recognized. Still, panic shot through him.

Katara noticed Aang's attention had drifted and turned her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Zuko." His name slipped out of her, almost a moan, before she closed her eyes. "I didn't know you were standing there."

Aang's hands slid along her thighs, fingers splayed and disappearing beneath her robe. His forearms tensed as he pulled her harder against himself and she let out a soft gasp. Katara tilted her head back and Aang pressed his lips to her throat.

Zuko woke with a start, his heart hammering. The sheets beneath him were damp with sweat. It was still late and dark. He sat up and lit the lamps. The curtains around his bed were open, giving him an unobstructed view of his empty room. Feeling tense and much too warm, he threw his covers aside and slid to the edge of the bed. He put his feet flat on the floor.

The solid ground beneath him did nothing to dispel his confusion. He bowed his head, taking slow, deep breaths.

xXxXxXx

The first full day of the conference was over and Katara spent most of it taking notes. She had a journal - purchased during their trip to the market - and nearly a third of it was already crammed with bulleted lists and footnotes. Reviewing them at the end of the day revealed her exhaustion, since her normally tidy handwriting took a turn about midday. She was already planning to transfer everything into a more organized format once the conference was over. Even if she hadn't been, she would have done it just to save herself from having to decipher it all later, when her memory of events wasn't as fresh.

She returned to the palace, to their room.

"Hi, sweetie," Aang called as she closed the door behind her. She could smell incense, the lingering evidence of what must have been recent meditation practice.

"Hi," she replied, kicking off her sandals. She joined him in the sitting room.

He was setting a leather bound volume down on the table when she entered. It was a biography of Roku she'd found in the library when doing her herbalism research at the beginning of the week. He was intrigued when she brought it back for him in her stack of books. With a weary sigh, she dropped her journal beside it and knelt next to him on the pillows scattered around the table. He leaned in to greet her with a kiss.

"How was your day?" he asked as she seated herself. He turned to face her.

"Really interesting," she answered. She laid her hand flat on her journal and nodded toward it, "I'm going to need another one of these by the middle of the week if I keep up taking this many notes."

Aang smiled, "That's great. I remember where you bought it. Do you want me to pick up another one when I'm at the market in the morning?"

"If you could, I'd really appreciate it." She leaned back on her hands, "Have you eaten?"

Standing and stretching, he made his way toward the door.

"No, I was waiting for you. I'll tell the steward," he said, referring to the attendant stationed near their room.

Both of them found it impossibly awkward being waited on at first. Usually, it was their preference to be as independent as possible when they were guests somewhere, to remain unobtrusive. After a full year of staying at the palace regularly they realized it was, if anything, ruder to avoid giving these people something to do. This was a set of manners neither of them were familiar with and it had taken Toph pointing it out to them in her typical fashion. She sent the steward off to fetch Zuko for them once, rather than going to find him themselves. When Katara chided her for her bluntness, Toph rolled her eyes.

"You know you guys make these people feel useless every time you come here, right?" she asked. "They must dread how bored they are during your visits."

"We should tell Zuko he doesn't need to post people outside our room," Aang said.

"Why?" Toph sneered, "So his majordomo has to hear that the _Avatar_ went over his head about his people? And you can't go directly to the majordomo, he doesn't need some monk dictating palace etiquette to him. He knows it better than you. Just let these people do their jobs, Twinkletoes. You're not offending them."

They had to accept she was right, since Toph didn't usually have that much to say about other people's feelings. And it did result in a lot less wandering around the palace, which could get tedious.

Aang returned, his brows knit in a slight frown.

"Something wrong?" Katara asked. He gestured toward the door.

"I asked him to see if Zuko wants to join us and he told me he hasn't been available all day."

She shrugged, "I'm sure he's just busy. It's the beginning of the week."

"He told me without checking, though. Like he told the staff not to accept any invitations." He sat down beside her again, "Was he at the conference today?" Katara shook her head.

"If he was I didn't see him. Why?"

Aang shrugged, "I didn't see him at all, either. Kind of weird." They were quiet for a moment. He sighed, his gaze distant. "I'm worried about him," he murmured.

Katara nodded, "So am I," she agreed.

xXxXxXx

Something was off the next morning.

Their attendant looked uncomfortable when they asked him to see if Zuko wanted to join them for breakfast. He seemed to cast about for an answer before finally settling on, "I haven't been told Lord Zuko is awake yet," which was odd. Zuko was an early riser, like Aang.

Katara spent the morning taking notes on acupressure and in the afternoon was part of a panel discussion on treating burns. She was always grateful for opportunities like this, to share what she'd learned. It put things in perspective. Sometimes she could scarcely believe how far she'd come, or that other people respected her accomplishments. A brief hush fell over the audience when she referenced Aang and Zuko directly. It was nice to have a reminder every now and then.

Back at the palace that afternoon, she hadn't even made it to their room before one of Zuko's advisers stopped her in the hall.

"Master Katara," he began. He bowed, "I'm very sorry to trouble you."

She shook her head, "It's fine. What is it?"

The man hesitated, "Lord Zuko has taken ill. I wonder if you would see him?"

Already suspecting what this might be about, Katara nodded. She saw relief flash across his features before he turned and lead her out of the guest wing. The route was familiar enough, since it was common for all of them to visit Zuko in his private apartments. There was an air of discomfort about the attendants who lead them there in the early days. She learned later that during Ozai's reign, no one was permitted in the royal chambers apart from the Fire Lord himself and the necessary staff. The description of _necessary staff_ was very vague and she didn't press for details.

Katara was surprised when she was lead without hesitation through the sitting room, directly to his bedroom.

"Lord Zuko." The attendant stopped in the doorway to bow, "Master Katara is here."

She stepped inside. The sun was still out but the room was dark, the heavy draperies all drawn. Zuko was on his side in bed, his back to the door. He rolled over, squinting against the obtrusive light.

"I told you I didn't need you to send for anyone," he snapped. She saw through the irritation in his voice. It was the same bravado that sharpened his tone when he was unsure of himself and trying to hide it. He sat up, though with great effort, and lit the lamp on his bedside table. There were strands of hair plastered to his sweaty forehead.

The man bowed again, "My apologies, my Lord," he replied, though Katara could tell he didn't regret what he'd done in the least. He backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. She moved into the soft circle of light as he pushed his hair back, away from his face, though he didn't look at her.

She had treated Zuko in the past for his headaches, which plagued him regularly for a time after his coronation. As far as she was aware, they had not troubled him since the days of the treaty negotiations with the old colonies, years ago. She should have guessed he had one coming after their last session. Zuko certainly knew when it was happening, so it surprised her that he hadn't sent for her the night before. She opened her bag to sort through it, doing a quick inventory of her supplies.

"I'm fine," he grumbled.

She glanced up at him, "Zuko, you are _not_ fine."

He pressed the heels of his hands against his brow, groaning a little at the pressure.

"I usually just sleep it off. It'll be better tomorrow."

" _Usually_?" she replied, her tone incredulous. She put her hands on her hips, "How often has this been happening?"

He sighed. "Once a month, I guess?" he muttered, and the embarrassment in his voice made it obvious he was not guessing at all.

"Lean forward a little," she instructed, gesturing with a flick of her fingers. He acquiesced and Katara took water from the pitcher next to the bed. She sat behind him. Zuko's hair fell as he tilted his head down, exposing the back of his neck. She held her hands over his shoulders. The snarl of his energy was obvious right away, running down his spine. It seemed to contract when her fingertips brushed his skin, as if he wanted to draw away from her.

"Tell me where the pain is the most intense," she said. Her hands moved up slowly until she reached the spikiest portion of the knot, at the base of his skull. He let out a low groan and she felt the dip and surge that typified a wave of nausea.

"There?" she asked. He nodded, swaying a little. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She began drawing his energy down, as gently as she could manage. It barely budged.

"This is going to take a little while," she apologized, closing her eyes.

She'd been working for about five minutes when the door opened again. Zuko looked up.

"Everything okay?" Aang asked. Katara opened her eyes. He stood next to the bed, a wrinkle of concern across his forehead. Zuko's adviser must have gone to fetch him because he stood hesitating in the doorway, peering into the room.

"Will you help me?" She passed him a small quantity of water and he accepted it, waiting. "Hold some heat on his neck for me, please."

Freezing water was a skill she had mastered easily. The nuance of maintaining steady heat in it was still something Aang managed with more consistency. He seated himself on the bed in front of Zuko. Katara's eyes darted toward the man standing on the threshold, the light from the sitting room outlining his shape. Her next statement was blunt, the decree of a healer speaking on behalf of a patient.

"You need to stop badgering him about his personal life."

"Katara - " Zuko began, but his protest was weak and she cut him off.

"Look what you're doing to him," she said. The adviser's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing down into a glare and she returned a scowl in his direction. Gesturing to the back of Zuko's head and no longer attempting to keep her demeanor professionally detached, she went on, "I haven't seen him this stressed out in years."

His adviser took another step into the room, "Lord Zuko, I - "

If he'd been doubting the truth of Katara's statement, it was as good as confirmed when Zuko interrupted him.

"Leave us, please," he muttered in exhaustion, his head drooping forward again. "We can discuss it later."

The man obeyed, though with obvious irritation. His bow was abbreviated and he closed the door with a little more force than he probably otherwise would have. They were left in the low light of the lamp again as Aang heated the water in his hand. He scooted closer and reached over Zuko's shoulder to hold it against his neck. Katara felt another contraction in his chi as Aang cupped the base of his skull. The movement of her hands stopped for a moment.

"Why didn't you send for me sooner?" she inquired, careful to keep any accusation out of the question. He only shrugged in response.

After a moment the blockage in his energy finally loosened, like a sigh of relief. She dragged the water along his spine, alternating her hands, drawing her fingers down over and over again. The repetition seemed to help and she could see him breathing in time with the continuous motion. He leaned forward, his clammy forehead resting on Aang's shoulder. She wondered if they were doing half the work simply by cradling him between them.

"Why are you two my friends?" he mumbled. Katara met Aang's eyes over his head. He gave a sad smile.

She closed her eyes again, trying to focus.

"Take a few deep breaths, Zuko," she urged, because she didn't know how to answer.

xXxXxXx

Zuko woke hours later, alone in his room.

He'd avoided Aang and Katara the day before, electing instead to address some of the work he'd put off while planning the conference. He told the staff he didn't want to be disturbed, though in reality he would have been glad of any distraction. Being left to his own devices much of the day proved to be a mistake, in the end. It served as little more than an opportunity to spend hours preoccupied with his own inner turmoil. He went to bed that evening feeling irritated and tense. The following morning he was roused by dull, familiar pain bisecting his head. Though he got up, he didn't bother attempting breakfast and within hours he was back in bed. He had no idea what time it was when Katara came to see him.

He opened his bedroom door. The sitting room was still lit, though he could see through the windows that it was now dark outside. He found Aang and Katara sleeping on one of the low couches. She was wedged in the cross of his arm, head on his chest. His foot was on the floor. Zuko froze, hesitating. He was about to turn around and go back to his room when Aang stirred and opened his eyes. With a sigh of defeat, he continued across the room.

"Hey," Aang murmured, the greeting heavy and sleepy, "How are you feeling?"

At the sound of his voice, Katara drew in a breath and opened her eyes. She peered up at him, waiting for his answer.

"Better," he answered. He addressed Katara, "Thank you."

She watched as Zuko crouched in front of them, her eyes skimming across his shoulders, assessing his state as best she could visually. Her hand curled against Aang's chest, fingers clenched in his robes. She frowned and he tilted his head slightly in unspoken question.

"I thought it was your advisers, causing all this stress." Her voice was soft.

Zuko's gaze drifted down. "It's usually my advisers," he said in an undertone. He could see where this conversation was going and had no idea how to steer it away.

"But not this time," she countered, pressing inevitably forward. His silence felt like the moment after pushing a door open. "It's us, isn't it?"

He frowned without looking at her. He wanted to deny it, to prevent the awkwardness he knew was going to result. Aang's foot was still on the floor and there seemed little point in lying. Mouth dry, he swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Should we go?" she asked. "Or would you rather we stayed?"

The question was so loaded it seemed to hang heavy in the air. He attempted to wet his lips with his tongue, though there was little point. Humiliation pressed down on his shoulders, holding him to his spot. With great difficulty, he brought his focus back up. Aang had propped himself up on his elbows. His expression reminded Zuko of when he was listening to political arguments, weighing information and extending sympathy in that careful way he always did.

"I - " and Zuko stopped, because he had no idea where to begin. There were too many things he wanted to tell them. That he had never been with anyone besides Mai, and that he still missed her. That he didn't want them to jeopardize their reputations for him. He didn't want to risk coming between them - or risk his bond with them - not when their friendship was so important to him.

He wanted to say all of these things and instead he was silent.

Katara sat up, her legs slung across Aang's thighs. She reached over to brush his scarred cheek with her fingertips, though he could feel a hesitation he wasn't accustomed to in her touch. Zuko closed his eyes, as if the contact pained him.

The tension was heavy with things that had been unspoken between all of them for years. He thought about the things they had been through together, the pain and the triumph. The three of them had seen each other bruised from battle, raw and wounded and afraid. He had never felt as vulnerable before them as he did now. His throat grew tight with emotion when he thought about all the things they had lost in that stupid, senseless war. He opened his eyes again.

"I can't ask you two for this," he whispered. "You've both already given me so much I don't deserve."

Aang sat up, too, both of his feet on the floor. He leaned forward, the two of them at eye level.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," he said.

Zuko frowned, "What?"

"Talk about yourself like that." Aang seemed close to anger, as if this were a subject he'd lost patience with long ago. "Like you're not worth anything."

It was hard to be the focus of their combined observation and, at last unable to face it any longer, Zuko bowed his head.

"I know you two care about me," he murmured, his voice heavy. "It's just - it's hard to believe sometimes."

He didn't have to say anything further for them to know what he meant. They all knew the damage from Ozai's years of abuse could never be truly undone. He didn't like bringing it up, since it felt like he was asking for pity, which he loathed. He felt Katara's fingers brush against his hair and looked up, blinking back tears he hoped they would all pretend weren't there. She tucked his hair behind his ear. Neither of them looked pitying. Katara's stare was measuring. Zuko had seen it before. It was the same way she looked at wounds, before she began healing sessions. Aang's gaze was marked by sadness, but it seemed he had made a decision about something, because there was determination beneath it.

"Let us show you," he offered.

xXxXxXx

He wasn't even fully undressed when they pulled him into bed.

Zuko watched them, stealing glances between buttons as he undid them. Aang was kneeling behind Katara on the bed, his chest bare. She'd divested him of his robes - a task she was clearly familiar with - in short order. It felt to Zuko like he was spying on them getting ready for bed and he hesitated, his shirt hanging open.

Katara untied the belt holding her tunic shut as they entered the bedroom. The rasp of fabric when she pulled the belt through itself seemed unnaturally loud in the nervous silence. It slithered away from her waist and slipped unceremoniously from her fingers to the floor as she walked.

She sat on the bed now, legs folded. Aang leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek and she dropped her shoulder, closing her eyes. Having finally succeeded in his efforts to loosen her bindings, he tugged the fabric gently away, exposing her breasts. Zuko's eyes widened and on reflex, he averted them. Hers were still closed when he looked back, her head tipped to the side. He watched as Aang nipped at her bare shoulder, drawing a low sigh out of her. He began working his way slowly up her neck and when he reached her jaw, he whispered something in her ear. He looked up through his lashes as he spoke, his voice so low that even standing almost within arm's reach of them, Zuko couldn't make it out. Katara opened her eyes. She smiled and straightened, scooting away from Aang to the end of the bed.

"What's wrong?" she murmured.

He swallowed, hesitating. His heart hammered in his chest and when he finally moved closer, he glanced behind her. Aang was watching him.

"You're my best friend's wife, for one thing."

Katara stood, close enough that he could have touched her. He did not touch her.

"He's right here," she soothed. "And if he didn't want this it wouldn't be happening. If he didn't want _you_ it wouldn't be happening," she amended.

She touched his chest, ran her fingertips across his skin. No one had ever touched his scar this way and it sent shivers through him. Mai always avoided it. He suspected she worried she might hurt him somehow. Maybe she was guilty. He never asked. Katara knew where tenderness needed to be applied, what the body could bear. He swallowed. Her fingers were cool.

"You're warm," she observed. "Aang is the same. You've probably never noticed. It's nice when we're in the South."

Aang slid off of the bed. He ran his fingers across his head as he closed the distance between them, a betrayal of the nervousness he was trying not to show on his face. He reached out his hand and Zuko realized his own were shaking.

"Are you two sure this is okay?" he managed, so nervous that the question came out of him in a tight whisper. Aang leaned in and Zuko closed his eyes.

"I need this to be okay," he breathed, his voice low, "Please tell me it's - "

His pleas were cut off, caught against Aang's lips. Zuko cupped his face before he even realized he'd done it, driven by instinct and the need to be close to someone. It could have been anyone and it could only have been them. He was so desperate for physical contact from someone who cared about him, who he cared about, and only they would have offered it. Only they were insightful and gentle and compassionate enough. Aang's arms slid around him.

The sudden intensity of longing felt sharp and immediate, like exposing a burn to the air. He'd been able to put all of this out of his mind, for the most part, but it remained precariously close to the surface. He felt the brush of Aang's tongue and parted his lips. Desire welled up inside him and filled him, his doubt temporarily suffocated. Zuko held back a whimper at the strength of the hand sliding across his ribs. It made his knees weak, being claimed by another person's touch again. Aang pressed his palm to the small of his back. His other hand was on Zuko's hip and he pulled him closer, their bare chests pressed together. When they broke apart, Aang's face was flushed and they both stared in breathless silence, unable to hide their eagerness from each other any longer.

"We'll go slow, okay?" Aang murmured. "We don't have to - " he stopped. "We don't have to," he said again, deciding this was enough. Zuko nodded.

He knew his misgivings would resurface tomorrow, but he couldn't bring himself to stop, even though every fragment of good sense was telling him to. Now that this line had been crossed there seemed little point in stepping back over it. The alternative could only leave them wondering and the thought of pulling away felt like an error, a mistake. Anticipation snaked through him and he kissed Aang harder.

Once they were in all in bed, he decided it was best to follow their lead, careful and cautious. He had no idea what to say or where to put his hands. The door was closed and again, the only light in the room came from the lamp closest to the bed. The single flame guttered occasionally in the natural currents of the air, the shadows that lay over them trembling.

Katara knelt beside him after they undressed him, weight sinking into the bed. She bent to kiss his scar, her hair falling forward and concealing her face, hanging like a curtain at his midsection. Gently at first, she touched him. She touched him much more gently than he usually touched himself. It was almost unbearable, her movements were so deliberate and slow, and he closed his eyes. She sat back and took his wrist, guided him. There was the soft, warm weight of her breast in his hand, the firm peak of her nipple against his palm. He slid his thumb experimentally across her skin. As if in response, the tempo of her strokes increased, her grip tightening. Zuko opened his eyes, spreading his fingers. He held his breath and watched his hand slide down, her nipple bared as he dragged his palm to her waist. When he realized what he was about to do, he stopped, fingertips digging into her ribs. She leaned in to whisper to him.

"You can touch me."

His hand inched it's way to her hip before he stalled again. She whispered his name.

"You can touch me," she repeated, "I want you to."

When he started to look to Aang for some sort of indication of permission, she kissed him. Her kiss was just as assertive as Aang's, though it was gentler. His palm meandered across her thigh. Any doubt he had about her desire was erased when he at last made his way between her legs. His seeking fingers grazed against her before he pushed up, inside, sliding into her enticing warmth. She gave a pleased hum against his lips and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He had forgotten how captivating it felt, being inside another person. Zuko withdrew his hand to drag his slick fingers across her skin and found he'd forgotten the satisfaction of eliciting a moan from someone, as well. Leaning on his elbow, he rose up slightly to meet her, to turn toward her. His fingers moved in tight, circular motions. He was amazed he could still manage the delicate balance of gentle firmness with proficiency.

"I missed touching someone this way," he moaned, knowing there was a desperate edge to his voice and well past the point of caring. Katara pulled back and ran the fingers of her free hand through his hair, pulling his head toward her chest. His lips closed around her nipple and her movements faltered. When his fingers dipped inside her again, she stopped completely, her nails digging into his scalp with a gasp.

He was so caught up in the need to feel her unravel in his hands, to know what she sounded like when she did, Aang's hand was nearly a surprise, running across his hip and sliding around his aching hardness, beneath Katara's now still fingers. The moment she realized her other hand was free, it tangled in his hair, as well. Aang's touch was firmer, his grasp more practiced and familiar, and Zuko groaned against Katara's breast.

Lips brushed the skin just above his knee and he drew in a breath sharply through his nose. Aang worked his way along, slowly upward, his kisses growing more insistent as he went. Zuko buried his face in Katara's chest, lips parted and the heat of his breath on her skin. The motions of his hand were disorganized and distracted. Her low panting quieted and he wondered if she was watching. Aang nipped gently at his skin, sucked the tender flesh of his thigh into his mouth and slid his tongue across it. There was no subtlety about this exhibition and hot tendrils of desire coiled tight between Zuko's legs, pushing him over the edge before Aang could even reach his intended destination.

He tensed, his eyes squeezed shut, letting out a ragged groan. He might have been embarrassed. Instead, he was relieved when they didn't pull away. They drew in closer, their gentle hands easing him through the consuming heat of his climax. He knew they weren't ready to stop but in another flash of shared insight, they all paused. Katara cupped his face and kissed his sweaty forehead. Aang stretched out beside him and scooted closer, pressed his lips to his shoulder. She cleaned them all up with water bent from the pitcher beside the bed, then slid off of the bed and padded to the bathroom. He could hear the water splash into a drain.

"Would you really have - " Zuko stopped, too embarrassed to even finish this question out loud. Katara returned and Aang rolled onto his back so she could tuck herself into his side.

"Oh, he'll try pretty much anything at least once," she said with a casual wave in his direction.

"That is true," Aang affirmed, folding his hands under his head, "I like doing it for her, I'd probably like doing it for you, too. I mean, I know it's a different skill set but the principal is the same."

"The principal is _not_ the same," Katara dismissed, rolling her eyes. "It doesn't matter, your enthusiasm will make up for the learning curve."

Zuko felt a little ridiculous at how embarrassed he was over the frankness of their conversation. He knew he was blushing and regretted even more what he had to say next.

"I _hate_ to bring this up," he apologized, "but the attendants are going to notice if you guys aren't in your room in the morning."

"That occurred to me, too," Katara agreed with a regretful sigh. She drew tiny circles on Aang's bare chest with her fingertip, "Another hour, then back to our room?"

The reassurance that they wanted to stay was comforting. They both turned expectant faces toward him and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"All right," he agreed, ducking his head, bashful and grateful all at once.

xXxXxXx

They had breakfast together on Zuko's balcony the next morning, though they were all quiet. They shared shy smiles and awkward laughs around the table, none of them knowing exactly what they ought to be talking about. Once their meal arrived and their privacy was as assured as it could be, Zuko cleared his throat.

"I've been thinking," he announced. Katara smiled behind her tea and Aang looked up from the small bowl of rice in his hand. He raised an eyebrow.

"What about?" he asked.

"The Northern Water Tribe healers," Zuko mused, leaning back on his hand, looking down into the teacup he was holding. "I was thinking, it's such a shame they couldn't come. I'd like to send them something, so they know their contributions were missed." He glanced across the table at Katara, gesturing to her, "And it occurred to me, you would know best what Water Tribe healers would find of interest. Maybe the palace scribes could copy your notes for them. You could help my herbalist put together packages of supplies to send along." He shrugged and looked up again, this time at Aang.

"I mean, that would take a couple of days. But if you didn't mind sticking around a while longer - " he stopped, second guessing himself. "And if you'd rather just take them the notes yourself I completely understand."

The tap of Katara setting her teacup down on the table drew his attention back up. She smiled and picked up her chopsticks.

"I think that's a lovely idea, Zuko," she replied. She turned to Aang, "Do we have anywhere we need to be?"

"Not for another week," he replied. "I'm supposed to take the Acolytes to the Western Air Temple."

"Well, I probably need a day to organize my notes. I took a lot more than I expected." This part was true and she considered a moment, "And if it's going to be a few days on top of that, we might as well leave directly from here to pick them up from the Southern Air Temple. No point in stopping in Ba Sing Se first."

This was true, as well, since they effectively had residences set up in all of these locations and no pressing reason to go back to Ba Sing Se.

"Great," Aang said, nodding. "We'll leave the middle of next week."

Zuko smiled, looking out on the sun rising over the capitol.

"Great," he echoed.

They sat for a moment, taking in the view. Aang broke the silence.

"I've been thinking, too. About updrafts."

Katara smirked in his direction, "What about them?"

"Just that there's a good one around the palace because the walls are so high." He pointed his index finger and made an upward, sweeping motion, "I bet if you dropped a feather out our window, it would blow right up past this balcony."

"Huh," Zuko replied. He sipped his tea. "That's interesting."

xXxXxXx

 _Zuko -_

 _Katara and I are at the Western Air Temple. We won't be staying long._

 _It's colder here at night than we both remember._

 _Isn't that strange?_

 _Aang_


End file.
